Reign (Sin City Outlaws #1)(3)

I grit my teeth. Lip has always been my mother’s pride and joy, and I… I was the mistake. The time my father didn’t pull out quick enough and a piece of the devil himself was replicated. Lifting my shoulders, I let out a deep breath.

“Screw them both,” I growl.

“I’m here, though.” Looking up, I hold my uncle’s stare. He is here, and he’s the only one left who hasn’t shit on me. The only family left who has stood by my side and chose loyalty and blood over self-righteousness.

“So, what now? What do I do?”

Uncle Frank smiles. “You’re president now. I have faith you’ll make the right decision.” The way he says it, the edge in his words, causes the sweat on my skin to cool.

“I’m vice president,” I correct.

“Not if you make the right decision, Zeek.” He tilts his head to the side, the tone of his voice laced with a vindictive suggestion. That’s when it hits me—he wants me to kill my father.

“You want me to kill him?” I confirm. When the words leave my mouth, they almost surprise me. Almost. But my father taught me firsthand what we do to those who talk to pigs. This is training taking over my emotions. Training that will kill my father, my teacher.

He sets the cigar down, and Cross loads the gun, the clicking mechanism echoing through the large room.

“It’s either him or us. He will bring us all down if you don’t.”

A throaty growl erupts in my throat, and my fists clench.

“Why me? Why don’t you have your hound do it?” I gesture toward Cross.

Uncle Frank stands, undoing the buttons on his suit jacket slowly.

“I’m sorry, Zeek, but you being so close to your father, I need to know where your loyalties lie. It has to be you. My casino is too close to the club for me to clean this up and trust that everything will go back to normal. The bosses have caught wind of this and want action taken immediately.” The bosses. He means the Italians he’s working for. The Mafia.

Closing my eyes, my temples pound with adrenaline, my head races with thoughts of emotion and training. I know I should kill my father without another thought, but the little boy in me looked up to the man and it’s clouding my better judgment.

“I know it’s a hard thing to process. Nobody said being a president would be easy, but you need to be able to sort through those who are rats and unworthy, and those who have your best interest.” He cups my shoulder, giving it a tender squeeze. “Think of your men. Think of the greatness you can possess after that gavel is in your hands, Zeek.”

Shaking my head, I bite at my cheek.

“I don’t want the gavel like this.” Being president has always been in my future, and I looked forward to the day, but this, killing my father and taking over… it’s not what I wanted. I wanted to earn it.

“Doing this, I don’t think you could earn that gavel more in any other way, Zeek. You are proving that the club is your main focus and that love, family, blood, none of it is a distraction to what really matters.”

“Which is?” I narrow my brows in question.

His lips part slowly, an evil smile crossing his face. “Power. To run an MC, you must have power. When you have this, everything you ever wanted will fall into your lap, Zeek. Women. Money. Respect. It’s what every MC tries to achieve, but most fail miserably because they let the little things in life pull them from that light.” He sighs, looking up at the ceiling in thought. “The Outlaws need an animal to lead them, and that animal is you.”

My head buzzes from the pressure bearing down on my shoulders, to the point I feel like a dead weight. “I need time to process this.”

Uncle Frank’s cheeks turn red, his hand clamping my shoulder.

“Sure, yes, of course.” He smiles, but it comes off bitter. He turns away, his hand that looks like he’s never gotten his hands dirty - because he hasn’t, he sends others to take care of his dirt - lingering on my shoulder a second longer than I like. “I wouldn’t take too long, though. One might get the wrong idea of where your trust sits.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I recoil. Sounds like he’s threatening me, which is a mistake. I may not be president, but I sure as hell won’t take anything less than respect. I am more than okay with putting a bullet in my uncle for disrespecting me.

He grins, biting down on his cigar with white teeth.

“It means the longer you take with your decision, the more shit could go wrong. People could… go missing?” The way he says it, it sounds like a question instead of a statement.

He is threatening me.

My chest tightens, and I point at him with force.

“Don’t f*cking threaten me.” My voice is laced with venom that could kill. “I’m not one of your sleazy casino workers.”

A sly smile crosses his face before he speaks again. “You’re dismissed.” Uncle Frank turns and Cross stands with a gun in his hand, walking me out of the office.

***

“This is f*cked-up, Felix. He taught me everything I know.”

“I hate to say it, but Uncle Frank makes sense,” Felix whispers, rolling a joint. Nobody is here, it’s just us in the main bar of the club in the early hours of the morning, but still, seeing how we have disloyal members, who knows what someone could do with the information we’re discussing.